Survivor
by Madraf
Summary: Jarrod must help Heath deal with the loss of Nick


Survivor

By Madraf

_I don't own the characters. I haven't had this betaed. I'm not making money. Rated for teens, I guess._

_Other notes: I've noticed several stories in which Nick has to deal with Heath's death, but I've never noticed one in which Nick dies first. This is a short response to those observations. If someone else has tackled that storyline, I'd love to read it._

_This is my first story on this site. This story appeared on the Big Valley Discussion Board a few months ago._

Jarrod was finally turning down the lamps and heading up the wide staircase to bed when he heard the front door of the Barkley mansion open. He turned, surprised to see his younger brother making his way into the darkened house.

"Heath?" he questioned. "I thought you went to bed hours ago."

"Couldn't sleep," the blond cowboy answered quietly. "Thought I'd check on Maisy. Make sure she's all right."

"And?"

"She's fine."

Jarrod nodded, falling into step with his brother as they both headed up the stairs to their respective rooms. He paused with Heath at the top of the stairs, expecting Heath to move toward the master bedroom at the end of the upper floor. Victoria had officially asked the new head of the ranch to move into the main suite of rooms last month, Jarrod remembered. He and Audra had whole-heartedly supported the decision of the Barkley matriarch. Given that knowledge, Jarrod was surprised when Heath turned with him and walked instead toward the other end of the hall.

Moving out of habit, Heath opened the door to the bedroom he had used since he had first come to the family nearly 10 years before.

"Heath?" Jarrod questioned. "Aren't you in the wrong room?"

Heath paused and looked back at his older brother with a half smile. "Yeah. Habit, I guess," he said, closing the door and turning back to the other end of the house.

Jarrod watched him pause at the doorway of the master bedroom before he finally opened the door and went inside. A chill went up Jarrod's spine at the incident as he went into his own room where his wife awaited him. Playing a hunch, Jarrod waited by the door, listening intently, and couldn't claim to be surprised when he heard soft footsteps come back down the corridor and the quiet snick as the door of Health's former room opened and closed. Jarrod leaned his head wearily against the door of his room. He knew it had been too much to hope for. He whispered a prayer for strength.

"Jarrod?" a soft voice called to him from the bed. He turned and, quickly removing his clothes, slipped into the warmth of his wife's arms. "What's wrong?" she asked. He was silent, trying to frame an answer that would say enough without causing more worry. "Heath?" she went on. He nodded. She kissed his cheek and lay her head on his shoulder. "I saw Laura in town this morning," Cynthia said. "She asked about Heath. She sounded very worried."

"I think she has reason to be," Jarrod whispered. "I had hoped the ranch and Laura would help keep him anchored, but I don't know. It's hit him so hard."

"I know. Everyone was expecting them to announce an engagement several months ago."

"I don't know how to help him," Jarrod sighed.

Cynthia looked up and kissed his cheek. "Get some rest," she said. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Heath was up and out of the house before Jarrod and Cynthia came down to join Victoria for breakfast. Victoria's own face was as composed as ever as she greeted her oldest son and his wife. Her bright smile dimmed noticeably when Jarrod looked at Heath's empty place.

"Does he come down for breakfast at all?" Jarrod asked.

"Not in the past month," Victoria said.

Jarrod looked down. "He's still sleeping in his old room," he said.

"I know."

"He's not doing well, is he?"

"No," Victoria admitted. "He's not." She looked down at her hands. "I don't know what to do, Jarrod," she admitted. "I'm afraid I'm going to lose another son."

"I'll talk to him, Mother," Jarrod promised, laying a gentle hand on his mother's. Neither completed the thought that passed through their minds: that Jarrod's talk would do little good.

Breakfast continued in a subdued manner and Victoria found herself wishing for the boisterous conversation of years past, for the sudden thunderclap of noise that announced Nick's entrance anywhere. His manner, always loud and exuberant, had seemed even moreso after Heath's arrival. So quiet and unassuming, Heath was Nick's counterpoint in personality and appearance. Deep down, though, Victoria knew, beat a common love: of land, of family, and of each other. From a rocky start, the two brothers had learned to complement one another. Watching Heath now was like watching a man without an arm and a leg, a man without a heart.

Jarrod and Cynthia had planned to return to Sacramento that evening but Jarrod sent her on and stayed the night in his childhood home. He watched from a distance as Heath directed the men in their various tasks and worked in solitude on tasks of his own. He watched Heath slip into the dining room just as dinner was served and then escape outside to the barn as soon as they left the too-quiet table. He waited well past dark for Heath to come inside and when the hour grew near to midnight, he extinguished the lamps and made his way upstairs.

Heath waited 45 minutes after he saw the lamps go out in the house before going inside. His feet barely cleared each step as he trudged tiredly up the central staircase of the mansion. His eyes were gritty and red from lack of sleep and the effort to move was almost too great. The effort to wake each morning, to see to the needs of this vast empire that was the Barkley Ranch, to speak with family and hands, to eat, to care was growing greater with each morning. Without thinking, Heath shuffled his way to his room, closed the door gently behind him and sank onto the bed, sitting on its edge and staring at his hat in his hands.

Jarrod softly opened the door to the room and watched his younger brother. Heath hadn't heard him open the door, or taken notice of the soft light cast by the lamp he held. Jarrod was taken aback by the anguish he saw in the slumped shoulders. The dim light caught the hollowed cheek, and Jarrod noticed for the first time how worn Heath looked.

"Heath?" he whispered, drawing the sorrowful face up from its contemplation of the dusty hat and again, Jarrod was jarred by the emptiness in the blue eyes that were once filled with life and joy. Jarrod came into the room and closed the door behind him. He set the lamp on the bed-side table and took a seat beside his brother. He rested his hand gently on Heath's shoulder and was surprised when the younger man collapsed against him. Jarrod automatically wrapped his arms around Heath and felt the shaking body. It took several seconds to realize his brother was crying, silent sobs coursing through the tough, strong body of the rancher. Unsuccessfully fighting his own tears, Jarrod tightened his hold and rocked Heath gently.

Long minutes later, Heath fell asleep, still resting against his older brother's shoulder, tears still seeping from weary eyes. Gently, Jarrod laid Heath back onto the bed, wrestled the boots off, and flipped the bedspread over the man before settling himself in the rocking chair by the window. He watched Heath sleep soundly and wondered how long it had been since the man had enjoyed such a night. He watched out the window as the stars disappeared and the sun began to lighten the eastern sky. He heard the hands begin to stir and watched them mill around the outbuildings, obviously waiting for Heath to appear and hand out assignments. Realizing something needed to be done and that Heath needed more rest than the few hours he'd managed so far, Jarrod left the room as quietly as he could. Stopping briefly by his room, Jarrod headed downstairs to talk with Henley, the foreman.

Henley looked relieved to see Jarrod, the lawyer thought as he approached the man outside the bunkhouse.

"Mr. Barkley," Henley greeted. He looked behind the lawyer for a sign of Heath. "Heath going to be down soon?"

"No, I don't think so," Jarrod said. "I think he's going to take some time off today."

"Good," Henley said. "He needs it. Hasn't had any time to…" the cowboy trailed off. "You know."

"I know," Jarrod said. "Do you think you can handle things today?"

Henley started to nod then stopped and sighed as he looked behind Jarrod to the back of the mansion.

"Henley!" Heath called as he walked toward Jarrod and the foreman. "Let's get those cattle up to the high meadow today," he said. Heath walked past Jarrod without a word and firmly directed Henley to the barn where another cluster of ranch hands had congregated.

"Heath!" Jarrod called.

Heath paused in his step, called out to the others to saddle up and be ready to head out in twenty minutes then turned to face his brother.

"I don't have time," Heath called across the yard to Jarrod. "We need those cattle moved."

Jarrod refused to answer across the thirty feet. He walked closer and gripped Heath's arm to prevent him from walking away. "Heath, I'd like to talk to you."

"I don't have time to talk," Heath said. "I've got a ranch to run."

"Heath," Jarrod said.

Heath freed his arm from Jarrod's grip and shook his head, never looking the older man in the eye. "Not now," he whispered, walking away to join the others.

Jarrod sighed and watched until the men had all ridden out. "At least," Jarrod thought, "he's with someone today." When there was nothing left to see, Jarrod made his way back into the house and sat in the office. He pulled out the ranch books and spent the day reviewing the reports Heath kept on activities and plans for the ranch. One notation brought back the warm memory of a night in the billiard room almost nine months ago now.

"Nick," Heath had argued quietly, "it's a good move. If we use that meadow for hay, we can still pasture the cattle in the higher grounds. That meadow is perfect for this new grass."

"We don't need any more hay," Nick had replied.

"We shouldn't keep raising hay on the same field. We've been getting less and less yield from that field in the last couple of years. If we let the soil rebuild itself, we can switch back in a couple of years."

"We're raising hay, not food crops," Nick had said.

"It's food for the cattle," Heath had replied. "Come on," he'd challenged. "If this doesn't work out, I won't throw any new ideas at you for at least two years."

Nick had eyed his younger brother thoughtfully. "I'll think on it," he'd finally promised.

Heath had eyed Nick in return and Jarrod remembered thinking the younger rancher must have seen something in Nick's eyes because he had grinned and nodded. "You do that," Heath had said.

Just what Nick would have thought about the issue was moot now. As far as Jarrod knew, a decision had never been made before the accident. It dawned on him as he recalled that warm evening of companionship that the meadow Heath had wanted to plant for hay was the same one he was currently getting ready to pasture.

"Oh, Heath," Jarrod whispered. The house was deathly silent all morning and Jarrod decided shortly after lunch that he couldn't wait for Heath to get home before talking to him. Resolute, he kissed his mother good-bye and saddled his horse for a ride to the meadow to catch his brother. Once there, he was surprised to discover Heath had not accompanied the hands.

"He took off just before lunch," Henley said. "Said he was going to check the water level at the dam."

"But you don't think he did?"

"I think he went where he always goes," Henley replied, glad for a chance to tell someone about what bothered him about his boss.

"And where's that?" Jarrod asked.

"The Ridge."

There were several ridges in the area, but only one mattered anymore to the Barkley family. Several ridges were marked by recent rockslides, but only one rock slide would ever matter to the Barkleys.

With a curt nod and a heavy heart, Jarrod turned his horse to the west to seek out Heath.

It was nearly an hour's ride to the ridge where the Barkley family had been torn apart seven months before. Jarrod found Heath at the base of the ridge, near the mound of earth and rock that had been shoveled ever so slowly several feet to the side of where it had slid down the steep slope. Heath sat on his horse staring at the massive collection of rock and dirt and tree roots and limbs.

"Heath," Jarrod greeted. Heath gave a short nod in return. "I thought you were going to plant hay in the meadow this year."

"Nick always puts cattle there," Heath replied.

Jarrod paused.

"Nick's not running the ranch anymore," the lawyer said. "You are."

"It's Nick's ranch," Heath said.

"It's our ranch, and you're in charge now."

"I shouldn't be."

"You think I could do better?"

"I think Nick could."

"Nick's not here. And he won't be here ever again."

Heath rounded on the older man so quickly he startled his horse. The horse danced nervously at the sudden surge of anger and action from its rider.

"You think I don't know that?" Heath hissed. "You think I've forgotten what it was like to watch those rocks bury him? You think I've forgotten what it was like to find his body crushed under that pile? You think I don't know he's not here anymore."

Jarrod's eyes filled with tears even as Heath's voice cracked and broke on his final words. The sight of Heath crying out and digging frantically as the workers finally found Nick's body all those months ago surging to the forefront of his mind. He and Victoria could barely move as Heath had cradled his dead brother in his arms. Nick's agony had probably lasted only a short time, his head injuries insuring he was unconscious almost from the moment the rock slide covered him if not, in fact, dead from the first blow. Dr. Merar had pointed out the lack of blood despite the condition of the body as evidence that the heart had stopped pumping long before workers had uncovered Nick.

Tired of fighting with the nervous animal, Heath finally dismounted and slumped to the ground, his back resting against a boulder.

"It should be him running this ranch," Heath said. "It's his ranch, not mine."

Jarrod dismounted and sat beside his brother. "It's ours," Jarrod repeated. "There's no one else we would want in charge. There's no one else better suited to take over." Jarrod fought the lump in his throat to speak again. "I know what you mean, though," he admitted after a moment. "Nick seemed to live and breath this ranch. He loved it more than almost anything else."

"It was his life."

"Yes," Jarrod said. "But there was one thing he loved more. And that was you," Jarrod said. "You brought him alive again after Father's death. You made this ranch…fun again instead of just a legacy he was honor-bound to run. He would trust no one else with this land, this family, than you."

"I miss him," Heath choked out. "More than I thought possible. It's so hard, Jarrod," Heath admitted.

"What?"

"Everything. Getting up in the morning. Getting others going. I do it for him. Because he loved this place, this land, this work."

"I know."

"No, you don't," Heath said. "You have Cynthia. You have work that Nick didn't touch. Nothing I've done in the past 10 years hasn't included Nick."

"I trust that doesn't include the lovely Miss Laura," Jarrod suddenly said.

Heath's smile was subdued. "Okay, so not everything included Nick."

"Have you seen her lately?"

Heath shook his head. "Not for almost a month. I'm not fit company."

"She worries," Jarrod said. "She's asked after you several times," Jarrod explained when Heath looked at him. "She's hoping you'll call soon."

"I'm not fit company," Heath repeated.

"Try," Jarrod suggested. The two men sat in silence for several minutes before Jarrod spoke again. "I realize I don't quite understand what you're going through," Jarrod finally said. "For one thing, I'm not you, and for another, you're right. Nick wasn't by my side all day, every day. I miss him and I can only imagine what it must be like for you. It's not something I find pleasant. But, Heath, don't make us go through this again. Mother's afraid for you. I'm afraid for you. Audra's afraid for you. Gene's afraid for you. Laura's afraid. Keep trying, Heath. We'll take your company anyway we can."

"I miss him," Heath repeated.

"I know. So do we. But don't make us miss you, too."

"I don't where to start."

"I think a leisurely meal with your family, a visit after dinner and decent night's sleep would be a good start," Jarrod suggested. "Take a day off. Take Laura on a picnic. Visit Audra in town. Go fishing. Do something for yourself."

Heath nodded. He took a deep breath, wiped the tear tracks from his face and stood quietly.

"I'm the reason he was on that horse, you know," Heath said.

"What?"

"I'm the reason he was on that horse. I was egging him for weeks about how slow Coco was getting. He finally agreed to try that new gelding. It balked at something and I sat here and watched him fight to get it moving again. I heard the slide start, and I started back to pull them out of the way. I was too late. Before I knew it, he was gone. Nothing there but a pile of rocks and trees and dirt. I didn't even know where to start digging."

Jarrod remembered riding upon the scene with two other ranch hands. The brothers had been delayed in returning from a brief trip to check the upper pastures. They should have been home by mid-morning. When Heath had missed his mid-afternoon date with Laura, they had grown worried and several hands had set out to search. Jarrod had been with two hands. They had rounded a curve in the path and discovered a frantic Heath digging with his bare hands at a mountain of rocks and dirt. Jarrod had known what had happened, knew the probable outcome from the sheer size of the slide and Heath's state. He had sent one of the men back for help while he and the other joined Heath. Nothing had been said by Heath until early the next morning when they had finally uncovered Nick's body.

"There was nothing you could do," Jarrod said. "We know you would have done everything you could. There's no fault, no blame to place. We could have lost you both."

"Yeah, but…"

Jarrod stared at his brother. "No buts, Heath," he admonished. "No buts."

"But he's your brother. He's the son."

Jarrod grabbed Heath's shoulders and shook him soundly. "You listen to me because I will not have you saying anything like this in front of our Mother. It hurts like hell that Nick is gone, but don't you dare think it would hurt less if it had been you that we lost. Don't you think for a minute I wouldn't have been here with Nick if it had been you under that pile of rock. Don't you think for a minute that Mother's tears would have been any less. What does it take to get you to understand that you are part of this family?"

"But this was his ranch, his life."

"It's been yours for 10 years. And it should have been yours for longer." Jarrod put his hand on Heath's cheek and rubbed at the tear tracks with his thumb. "Heath, don't cry for Nick anymore, and don't cry for yourself. What's done is done. Having Nick here and you gone would change nothing. I would still miss my brother. Mother would still miss her son, and I would still be convincing my brother that he should go on with life, that it is all right to laugh again and to live." He pulled Heath into his arms. "I would be no less sorrow-filled for the brother lost, and no more joyful for the brother held," he whispered. "Please believe that."

Heath drank in the affection offered, the support of the strong arms and the words of comfort. In the months since Nick's death, he had run himself ragged, proving to himself and others that he could run this love of Nick's, that he would not let his brother down. As he had the night before, he finally let go of the flood of tears for his brother and for himself. And somewhere, deep within his heart, Heath knew. The hole left by Nick's death wasn't any smaller, but perhaps, Jarrod's support and love allowed his heart to grow a little and thus make Nick's loss seem less all-consuming. It wasn't complete healing, but perhaps it was enough of a start.

The end


End file.
